


Peace

by Jaelijn



Series: A Heart to Hold [8]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual!Avon, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: An afternoon in the country.





	Peace

**Author's Note:**

> This is unapologetically fluffy, but if you needed a balm to the emotional turmoil that is _Bitter Days, and Sweet_ , this might be just the thing! 
> 
> As this is part of "A Heart to Hold", aka the Asexual!Avon series, here is your warning that there is a good amount of kissing in this, but nothing further sexual is happening.

The first thing that struck him was the sound of the foliage rustling in the wind, a calm, gentle whisper, interrupted only by the faint crackle of leaves catching on another. Next was the sensation of warmth on his face - sunlight, pure and unfiltered, not diffused by a glass wall or simulated by artificial light. At any other time, the incessant radiation might have worried him, but not here, not now, where all he felt was the pleasant warmth. There also were the little puffs of air against his hair, reassuring in their regularity, stable against the more unpredictable breeze – Vila’s breathing, in tandem with the heartbeat under his palm. Distantly, there were the cries of some animal or other, a bird, probably, but he dismissed them as inconsequential - not a threat. Other than that, the silence was absolute.

Avon roused himself enough to open his eyes, blink against the light. He was surprised how easily he had fallen asleep, out here in nature, with nothing to protect him from the elements, the wildlife, the Federation, except Orac’s reassurance that the planet was too inconsequential, too lacking in any usable resources and utterly harmless in its own right - and, of course, except Vila. Avon smiled at the thought, drifting momentarily in contemplation of how it might look for Vila to come daringly to his defence. Unbidden, it called up an image of flight deck arguments with Blake, and Vila intervening, and Avon let the thought go, unwilling to examine it too closely. Instead, he reached up to brush his fingers over the delicate skin underneath Vila’s ear, watching with leisurely satisfaction as the other man turned his head towards him to allow better access even in slumber, his eyelids fluttering ever so slightly. Such trust, so completely and unquestioningly given. Not even with Anna had it ever been... Avon shrugged that thought off, too, letting the pang of regret and melancholy melt away under the warm rays of the sun.

“Hmm, Avon?” Even half-asleep, his name sounded special on Vila’s lips, like something worth saying. Blake had a habit of, every once in a while, imbuing Avon’s name with a peculiar intonation, following no logic Avon could discern, but never Vila, not even when he spoke in his broadest - and most fake - Delta slang.

“Yes?” Avon couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice above a whisper, reluctant to disturb the silence - the bubble of peace.

"Hmm, it was a good idea, wasn’t it, coming here?" Vila stretched, arching his back and jostling Avon from his shoulder as he did so. Avon allowed himself to roll fully onto his back, looking up at the sky through the dark red leaves of the tree under which they had settled down. The wind moved the branches in a whispering dance, creating alluring patterns of sunlight.

“Avon?” Vila suddenly loomed over him, grinning. “Gone back to sleep on me, have you?”

“Not quite yet.” Avon reached up and pulled Vila in for a kiss, chuckling when it upset Vila’s precarious balance and he tumbled down with a _whuff_ onto Avon’s chest.

Unruffled, Vila huddled close and started pressing little kisses against Avon’s throat. “Wanna –” Kiss. “– stay –” Kiss. “– right –” Kiss. “– here –” Kiss. “– forever.”

A peculiar feeling curled up from Avon’s chest and closed up his throat. He settled one hand in Vila’s nape and rested his own head on the other, breathing in the sweet air and the comfortingly familiar scent of Vila with deliberate deepness. He was peculiarly conscious of how each breath expanded his chest, moving Vila where he had cuddled up to him with each inhale. The sunlight looked beautiful on Vila’s hair, streaking it with brilliant gold.

Vila had lost interest in Avon’s throat and was idly tracing the contours of Avon’s face with skilled fingers, touch feather-light, but never quite enough to tickle. It felt tentative, fragile – made _Avon_ feel fragile, like the moment itself, which Avon knew couldn’t last, wouldn’t last, could already feel receding. Making him want to hold onto it even more fiercely.

“Avon?”

Just in that moment, Avon could have listened to Vila saying his name forever. “What is it?” Vila’s fingers moved with his lips as he spoke.

“Credit for’em?”

Avon caught his gaze, losing himself in the depth of Vila’s eyes. “You don’t want them. Not now, not here.”

Vila lowered his eyelids while his fingers continued their exploration, tapping against Avon’s chin. “I always want them, love.”

For a breath or two, the endearment barely registered, then Vila grew still and Avon processed what he had heard. He toyed with the stray tuffs of Vila’s hair under his fingers. “Love?”

Vila smiled faintly. It looked too uncomfortable to fit into this place and time. “Needed to try it out sometime.” He shifted, lifting his head slightly from Avon’s chest and looking up at him intently. “No terms of endearment for Kerr Avon?”

Avon chased away the fleeting mental image of Anna with a shake of his head. “You could have come up with something more original.”

Vila hummed thoughtfully and lay back down, painting patterns onto Avon’s chest in absence of any decorative seams to trace with his fingers. “You didn’t seem to fancy _Fingers_. How ‘bout _my favourite embezzler_?”

“ _Your_ favourite isn’t much of a compliment, Vila.”

Vila rose to the challenge with a blinding grin. “ _Number two with computers_?”

Avon scoffed. “Hardly.”

“ _My computer expert_? _Alpha-mine_? _Beloved insomniac_? _Thorn in my side_?”

Avon tugged slightly at Vila’s hair for that one. “You better stop before I’m sick.”

Vila pushed himself up on his arms, framing Avon’s head between them. His eyes were gleaming with mirth, but there was seriousness there now, too. “ _Starshine_ ,” he whispered, and bent low to press a soft kiss against Avon’s lips.

“What?”

“ _My Avon_.”

Avon hummed, returning the kiss, but didn’t let himself be distracted. “ _Starshine_ , Vila?”

Vila drew back a little, giving space to the rustling of the leaves before he spoke again. “‘s the most complicated lock ever invented.”

“Ah.”

“D’you mind?”

“… no.”

Vila kissed him again, eyes closed. When he pulled back, they breathed the same air, separated only by rays of sunlight.

“It’s an improvement on _love_ , at any rate,” Avon quipped.

Vila batted lightly at his shoulder in protest, but his entire face was lit up with a smile. He flopped down by Avon’s side, intertwining their hands. “This is nice.”

“So you said.”

“How many more hours of sunlight, do you think?”

“I don’t.”

“Eh?”

“Want to think.”

“That’s all right, I know the feeling. That’s why you got me.”

Avon laughed. “Yes, I do, don’t I?”

Avon’s laughter trailed off into silence, both of them listening to the distant call of the alien bird, strange in its familiarity. Avon could have easily fallen back asleep like this, made drowsy by the sun and the opportunity to just _be_ , and worry about nothing except keeping hold of Vila’s hand.

Of course it was Vila who broke the silence with a soft: “Avon?”

Avon squeezed his hand in mute acknowledgment. The blanket Vila had unearthed somewhere on the _Liberator_ was soft against his hand as he traced a callous at the base of Vila’s thumb.

“About that lock?” Vila went on.

“What about it?”

“I can open it.”

Avon smiled at the sky. “Oh yes.”

Vila’s voice rose in automatic protest: “I can! I’d show you if – wait.”

“I didn’t doubt it, Vila.”

“Really?”

Avon shrugged. “Why should I? You tell us – you tell _me_ often enough that you can open _anything_.”

“Well, yes. Of course.” Vila was silent for a moment, hand very still in Avon’s. “But I mean I did it, too. Just once, mind you, back on Earth. They’re very rare, you know.”

Avon turned to his side, shifting himself up onto his elbow to look at Vila without letting go of his hand. “Hm. Don’t you mean _twice_?”

“No, I would have remembered–” Vila caught Avon’s eye at that, and his eyes lit with stunned comprehension. “Oh,” he breathed, and Avon’s was treated to a flash of mirth chasing the awe in Vila’s eyes. “Come off it. You’re not _that_ rare.”

“Aren’t I? I was rather entertaining the thought of being _unique_.”

“Oh yeh? No clones running around?”

Avon shuddered at the thought. “I rather hope not.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Vila grinned. “It might be interesting.”

“No, thank you. One of each of us is quite enough.”

“Avon, I’m hurt! Don’t you want more of me?”

“Of _you_ , fool. No copies, clones, fakes or imposters.”

“That’s all right then.” Vila shifted, mirroring Avon’s position. “Do you think Orac could find us one of those locks?”

“Just so you can show off?”

“So we can get to what’s _behind_ it. Most complex lock in the known universe – there’s got to be something valuable there.” Vila’s eyes gleamed, and it had nothing to do with the sun this time.

“Provided you’re not more likely to find it in a museum. Most things worth stealing are protected with computer-controlled or electronic security systems by now, as you well know.”

Vila frowned, dismayed. “It would be a shame. That lock is a work of art.”

Avon chuckled. “Is it really?”

“Oh, shut up,” Vila said without real reprimand in his voice. “Should have known what it’d do to your ego.”

Avon let go of Vila’s hand to sit up properly, leaning against the tree trunk. From there, he could see out into the distance, appreciate the low rolling hills with their short, mossy ground flora and the occasional copse of red-leaved trees. The sun was definitely setting now, hanging much lower than it had when Avon had first woken up. Avon’s eyes caught on their discarded boots and jackets, and he sighed. “If you want to steal something of real value, I’d have an idea or two.”

“Hmh.” Vila stretched on the blanket like a cat, and sat up cross-legged in Avon’s view. Not that he could be said to ruin it. “Blake’d never let us,” he mumbled morosely.

And that was it, the peace of the moment truly gone. Avon didn’t blame Vila – Vila had sensed it too, he knew, the rapidly retreating calm, and in the end there was nothing to stop it. He had known that from the beginning; moments like that never lasted. The sun was setting, too, and by nightfall, they would be back on the _Liberator_ , and back to whatever scheme to overthrow the Federation was freshest on Blake’s mind. Already, Avon noticed his thoughts turning back to the technical complexities of the _Liberator_ , of Orac, of Blake and his revolution, and away from the murmur of the wind, the song of alien birds and the warmth of Vila by his side. “Probably not,” Avon conceded. “But then, he needn’t always know.” He allowed himself a last calm grin, and stole another kiss from his thief.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was first published as part of issue 1 of the all things B7 zine (completely free and digital) that I had the pleasure of editing, [Rebels and Fools](https://rebelsandfools.tumblr.com/post/164487288938/rebels-and-fools-issue-1). You can find the details and the download link to the first issue under that link!


End file.
